Father's Day

"I want someone like him for my children." I said to myself.

It was the smartest thought I ever had.

I didn't have children at the time. They were far off into the future, in my imagination.

And Todd? Ha! He definately wasn't my type. No romantic interest there. No sir. Just friends.

He is a hospital pharmacist and I was working as a pharmacy technician, while putting myself through nursing school. As a tech, your boss changes daily, depending on the schedule. If Todd was working, I knew it would be a good day. He was just so darn capable. He was also polite. Other pharmacists would crack under pressure if it got too busy or if the computers went down. They might snap at the techs or put them in impossible situations, dealing with irate nurses calling down from the floors. Not Todd. He was in charge. He took responsibility. He dealt with the crap.

After some time we became good friends. We had the same sense of humor. We laughed a lot. He was the work friend I grabbed first thing in the morning to fill in on what happened the night before. We'd sneak into the back storage room, "You won't believe this...” I'd start. Then I’d tell him a tale about my lame boyfriend, or my mother, or whatever. He'd hang on every word, laughing, knowing just where we left off yesterday, and then go back to work like the Mr. Responsible he is.

Our first date involved taking my 11 year old brothers to the movies. They saw Toy Story. I saw Todd.

How I ended up with someone like him, coming from the childhood role model I had, is a miracle.

Standing in the kitchen, hard at work, I hear them dancing in the next room. My oh-so-white husband, singing along to Will Smith’s “Gettin’ jiggy wid it.” He’s got all the “ha-has!” & the “what’s” down, and the kids are twirling in circles at his feet, like little tops.

Today I honor Todd, for the wonderful man that he is. Watching him father my children moves me to my depths.

I also honor my father. The one who forbid me to say the Lord’s Prayer, because “I’m the only Father you got. You hear?”

His name is Bill, and Bill and Todd arrived in this world equally perfect. Bill was a little baby, born into an alcoholic chaotic abusive haze. Todd was born into stability and love. Both have the same seed of love in their hearts. One was nurtured, and one was trampled. Looking at my little son Seth, I can only imagine the psychic split that would occur if he saw me beaten or abused once, let alone repeatedly? If he himself were abused? I spent a decade hating my dad, but no more. It would require hating the boy that he was, and frankly that little guy has been through enough.

Bill taught me what not to look for in a man. As a result, I have everything I could have dreamed of in a husband. Maybe this is my father's ultimate gift to me?

To Todd, to Bill, to all fathers, I wish you a blessed Day.